


The Petards, they are a’ Hoisting

by Trista_zevkia



Series: Platonic [14]
Category: Superman/Batman (Comics), Superman/Batman - Fandom
Genre: F/M, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Sex Pollen, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anybody else would have thrown out Superman's stool sample. But, Batman's not anybody else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Petards, they are a’ Hoisting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyblkrose](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ladyblkrose).



> When [ladyblkrose](http://ladyblkrose.livejournal.com/) made this [ Request ](http://ladyblkrose.livejournal.com/79477.html), I responded with this [fic](http://trista-zevkia.livejournal.com/57164.html) and those that read wanted to know what happened to the stool sample. And the Ides of March is the first day of the tentacle fest, so I threw in some more Shakespeare to class this up;)

This business of being hoisted on one’s own petard, or the tendency of one’s own abilities and skills to get one into situations that were possibly ironic, was damn irritating. Bruce’s mind was his great gift, his to train and use so he could control his body to be the Batman. But under that trained body and muscular façade, pulsed the brain of a mad scientist.

He’d never tried to bring anybody back from the dead like Frankenstein, except that one time with his parents but that was time travel and entirely different than reanimating flesh, because, yes, he’d looked into both. And cloning. He could extract his parent’s DNA from himself, it was the brainscans he lacked. Still, if he’d found the stuff in his cave and tossed it on the roses or something, he wouldn’t be in this mess. 

But not Bruce ‘anything to fight crime’ Wayne. 

He’d been a little confused from being up for 56 hours straight until someone had knocked him unconscious. When he’d woken up, after a record 18 hours of sleep, Alfred had motherhenned him and kept him out of the cave. Finally, he’d found his way down there and encountered a mess. It wasn’t like Alfred to leave a mess un-tidied, so doing so was a message. Alfred wasn’t happy with what Bruce had done while awake, nor was he happy with Bruce being awake that long. The world’s greatest detective had set out to figure out what he’d done. 

Nobody from the JL had called him, for any reason. Green Arrow hadn’t called to tell him the results of their latest body armor project. Green Lantern hadn’t sent a message about the off planet mission being a success or a taunting call about how much nicer space was when Batman was on Earth. Bruce could handle no messages, as it meant nothing much had gone wrong while he was indisposed, but he still had to crush this feeling of disappointment that Clark hadn’t even called. 

Clark called, all the time, for any little thing. ‘Batman, just heard a boom tube over Tokyo. Bruce, can I ask you about Lex’s latest promise to destroy W.E.? B, have you ever been to a monster truck rally? It could be fun, plus I’ve heard threats that Klarion is going to turn the trucks into real monsters. B, have you seen the newest issue of Person magazine? The cover makes you look very se, uh, smarmy.’ 

If something had happened to Clark, the JL would have called, or Alfred would have shown him the news. Still, Bruce had hoped for a message from Clark, just to convince himself that Clark was okay. Bruce also carefully avoided thinking about why he was saving that message, the one from over a month ago, where he knows Clark was about to say sexy. 

Moving on, Bruce found he had been working on the computers, several projects at once. After speed reading through them, he was rather worried his brain thought that stuff, no matter how strained it was. Still, he’s known Alfred wasn’t upset about the mosquito paper, or the unused dart on the console that should have been needed to put Bruce to sleep. Frowning, Bruce had looked around and spotted the batsuit in the medical bay. 

Smelly thing would have to be washed, as would the medical equipment hanging around. Bruce had shifted, thought back to his time upstairs. The equipment looked like he’d given an enema, but he didn’t feel as though he’d received one, though something had been poking around back there. Looking around, he’d found a large container hidden in a lockable fridge. He’d been strangely proud of the fact that even high on adrenaline, he’d still felt the need to label the container. And very confused by the fact he’d managed to talk Clark into _that_ while zonked out of his head. 

This is the point where he’d change things, if he had that chance to change the time stream again. He could have, should have, taken Clark’s stool sample and tossed it into the nearest toilet. But he’d read his case study on what to do if somebody else had gotten hold of Clark’s bowel movements. Maybe Super-poo was a crazy idea, but he’d still started testing the stuff. He’d noticed that Clark’s poop didn’t smell, but he was never going to tell Clark that. Guy was too damn perfect, and the idea that his shit didn’t stink wouldn’t even go to the guy’s head. 

So, without the excuse of his body near the breaking point, Bruce had experimented. 

Clark ate a lot of food, as much as Flash, and now Bruce was curious about Flash’s bowel movements and there were times he could hate his brain. He’d found a bonding agent in Clark’s body that allowed him to eat as much as he needed and produce super compact turds. Sinkers, no matter his diet, or so Bruce determined. Bruce also figured out the binding agent could be used to filter out biologicals, like Poison Ivy’s toxins. 

Not that Bruce would stick Clark’s shit up his nose, that would be gross, smell or no smell. And he did not think about how much he like sticking his tongue in the same hole the sample came out of. Instead he’d extracted the binding agent, and found a way to turn it into a paste. Smearing the stuff on a batsuit, Bruce had waited for Ivy to do something. In theory, he’d track her down, she’d hit him with spores, they’d stick to his suit and not effect his actions or body. While she was surprised, he’d catch her and move on. 

But. That had not happened. If that didn’t happen, nothing out of the ordinary should have happened. How he wished nothing had happened! 

He’d swung into the abandoned greenhouse Ivy used for her delicate babies and gotten Ivy’s lust dust all over his legs. His armor had bubbled and dripped without heat, until his legs were exposed and doing their own bubbling. It hadn’t hurt, but Batman hadn’t dropped to the greenhouse floor in a dramatic pose. He’d dropped down into a bed of writhing green things he’d thought were Ivy’s tendrils. 

Some of them were. But the ones with the black ovals turned out to be his. Not tendrils, as those were trailing plants and hair in Alfred’s bodice ripper books. Batman’s lower half had tentacles. 

“Ivy!” He snapped, his growl hard to maintain at the volume he was using. “Stop laughing.” 

She laughed louder, and pulled out a WEphone. 

The new WEphone, he noticed, the one that hadn’t been put on the market yet. Which meant she’d gotten it from Harley, the last time her and Joker had broken in to WayneTech. Which meant Harley and Joker would have a picture of Tentacle-Man. Angered, and still trying to get his tentacles to behave, Batman was a surprised as Ivy when a tentacle snagged the phone and crushed it. 

“Hey!” Ivy protested, no longer laughing. 

“Cheap plastic crap, Ivy, your arch nemesis.” 

“Wayne Tech is making the new WEphone out of a cornstarch based, biodegradable plastic.” Ivy sent her tendrils sliding around Batman’s tentacles. “And it was a gift from Harley.” 

Batman tried not to jerk back from the tentacle reaching up to rub at his eyes. It was his tentacle after all. It was also his company trying to do right by the environment, and this was the thanks he got. “Fine. I’ll fix your phone if you leave now and don’t come back until I’ve sorted this out.” 

Green Lantern would think reasoning with the villain was cheating, but Batman had no problem with it as long as the villain was reasonable. Ivy could be very reasonable. She could also be everything that was stereotypically thought of as feminine, but Batman thought that was more about her Mother Nature complex than about her being female. Batman would dare anybody to hang out with Wonder Woman for any length of time and try to hang onto a misogynistic attitude. Diana would get it out of any man, one way or another. 

“Tempting, so tempting.” Ivy pretended to consider his offer. “But when I don’t call Harley, she’ll come to see me. She’s very good with these things, always helping her ‘puddin’ with his toys, so I’m sure she can fix it. Or steal a new one.” A wave of a green hand dismissed this as an unimportant distinction. “I have other ideas for you.” 

“I still have my _toys_.” His defoliant wouldn’t harm Ivy in the long run, but it would hurt her plants, and she knew it. 

“Batman, don’t be that way. Whatever you did to yourself was activated by my love pollen, so you’ll enjoy this far too much to want it to end.” Her voice was even more of a seductive purr, and Batman tried to move away, but the tentacles were more interested in Ivy than his instructions. Her tendrils moved up, several on each tentacle and began to rub. 

The tentacles were stubborn, emotionally motivated things attached to his lower body, Batman knew that now, but when Ivy rubbed, Batman found out the tentacles were, in fact, attached to the lust centers in his brain. That is, his dick hadn’t been turned into a tentacle, but every tentacle was a dick. His blood went everywhere but to his brain as every tentacle was aroused and ready to work with Ivy’s tendrils. His eyes rolled, his arms dangled at his side and his lungs panted at the flood of sensation. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was like that, until something slid into his mouth. Well, he had left it open, something was bound to get in it eventually. Forcing his eyes to see, Batman saw it was Ivy’s tendril he was sucking on, and decided to take a more active role in this. A tentacle rolled around the tendril until both were enjoying his oral skills. Two others reached for Ivy, trailing up her skin and asking permission. 

She was more plant then human, so the animal method of reproduction was saved for pleasing Harley. Something must have affected her too, as she adjusted herself on her plant throne to let the tentacles in, leaf dress falling away. 

Batman focused on wanting to please her, picturing what he wanted, and watched as his tentacles did as he wanted. The first one began to tease at her clitoris, much as Harley’s tongue probably did. The other one caressed her skin, trying to feel like kisses walking up her toxic skin. Batman couldn’t have been with Ivy any other way than as Tentacle-man, but he’d imagined it. She was more exciting than Brucie’s dates. Though most of Brucie’s dates would be more exciting unconscious, because then he’d at least get to figure out why they were unconscious. 

When Ivy let her head fall back in pleasure, Batman let the first tentacle work itself into her. When it was nice and wet, he made it as skinny as possible and sent it to her anus. The second tentacle worked itself into her vagina, the tip sticking back out to keep the clitoris stimulated. The first tentacle was slowly filling up her asshole, making Ivy’s breath stutter. This was especially impressive as she was slightly photosynthetic and didn’t actually breathe all that much. 

Pleased with himself, Batman went back to his self-fellatio and making all his tentacles come. When something slick and warm and moving slid into his ass, he didn’t bother to look and see who it belonged to. Batman let his dick do the thinking, fell into that well of desire which made him want to drown and did not let himself call the name of the only person who could make him feel this way on a regular basis. That way lead the temptation of never leaving this state of bliss, and he had too much to do for that indulgence. 

Ivy moaned, squeezing herself around his tentacles, and Batman felt the familiar tingle in his spine. A hitch of his breath, and he was coming. The tentacle in Ivy’s vagina stiffened, getting harder than it ever had, and froze for a few seconds. Nobody was expecting it to actually explode when it came, but Ivy was the one who laughed. Batman freed up another tentacle to work Ivy into an orgasm. Ivy shot him a dirty look, but accepted the offering, opening around it. As it brought her off, she arched off the throne in pleasure. A beautiful sight, and Batman had another orgasm, and a tentacle behind him burst. 

Distracted by this, trying to get enough brain power together to figure out if he was going to have to orgasm for each of the tentacles, Batman didn’t notice Ivy had pulled the tentacles out of herself. The tendrils curling around him turned into restraints, and he looked to Ivy. She was standing, smiling at him, moonlight framing her as the plants had moved aside so she could leave. 

“This was a first for me, Batman. I’ll just leave before you take it into your lust addled head to run me in.” 

“Ivy!” Batman called, stopped to swallow down the emotion in his voice. She wasn’t under any obligation to help him out, and thanks to her he’d learned how to get rid of the tentacles. Besides, any of his other enemies would have shot him in the head and sold his body for ray guns. “Next time a jogger trips over a tree root and slams into a tree, please think of it as an accident and not an attempt to chop down a tree with a human head.” 

“Depends on how much cheap plastic crap he has on him, lover.” Ivy said with a wink before making her grand exit. 

The tendrils released him, and Batman was alone with his hundreds of hard-ons. Stuffing the tentacle back in his mouth kept him from calling out for Ivy to come back. His jaw was aching by the time he’d orgasmed that tentacle into submission, so he grabbed two more and tried to jerk them off. It was no good, the tentacles wanted spaces like mouths and assholes to climb around in, and his hands were not enough. 

Batman looked around the greenhouse, hoping to avoid the conclusion his mind had come to. He needed help, and a lot of it. He tried to imagine asking the JL into a circle-jerk and orgy, but kept thinking of how hard it would be to look each other in the eye at the next meeting. He was up shit creek, and as it was a certain somebody’s shit that had gotten him here... “Shit, fuck, double damn and twice around the car park.” 

Activating his JL comm., Batman growled in his most pissed off, don’t you fucking dare ask me questions growl. “Superman.” 

There was an unusually long pause, as if the JL was very busy or thinking about how best to answer Batman. There had been a meeting while he was mentally indisposed and physically active, but he couldn’t even guess what he might have done there, if he’d even gone. Alfred had very thoroughly erased the video surveillance of that time period. 

“Batman, this is Hawkgirl. Superman is busy at the moment, can anyone else assist you?” 

“No.” 

“I will give him the message, but it could be a while. It’s a busy night, for a Tuesday.” 

“Making excuses?” 

“That’s not an excuse, I’m telling you how it is!” There was enough of a growl in Hawkgirl’s voice to make Batman consider he might have been a touch rude. 

A touch, but he didn’t care. “Tell him. Batman out.” 

Flexing his jaw, Batman started work on another tentacle in his mouth, and sent one into his asshole. It was nice, but not great. It was as if his whole body, and all his tentacles, were waiting for Superman to come and help him. Which was part of the problem with _feelings_. Brucie was a distraction, his playboy persona that kept him so very much in the spotlight that he couldn’t be up to anything else, like being a vigilante. He could still do that, still get off with women and other men, but it never felt as _right_ as it did with Clark. 

A sonic boom cracked across the sky, and Batman pulled his tentacles around him, ignoring the way they quivered in anticipation. The voice in his ear confirmed his theory, in which the sonic boom heralded Clark’s arrival. 

“Batman?” 

“Here, the old greenhouse near the park.” 

Seconds later, Superman was floating down through the opening in the roof, eyes scanning the building for threats. 

“It was Poison Ivy.” Batman informed him, in case Clark missed all the plants, because Clark had to adjust for Ivy’s physiology. Plus, the condescension in his tone kept Batman from thinking about how magnificent Clark looked in full Superman mode. 

“I don’t see her, or any surveillance.” Clark responded, the stiff pose gone as he landed in front of Batman. “She leave you trapped in a pile of vines?” 

“As please as I am that you’ve observed something, your conclusions are wrong.” Bruce kind of hated himself for his tone, but anger and snark were his only defenses against Clark. “They’re not vines, they’re tentacles.” 

Clark stepped closer, looking at the green things with black ovals. They started to reach for him, so Bruce had to say something before Clark fought back. 

“They’re my tentacles. They go away after climaxing, but they don’t respond to external, manual stimulation.” 

“Your tentacles don’t like hand jobs?” Clark asked, the effort to keep his face straight obvious. 

“Don’t laugh.” 

Clark nodded, and zipped away. 

He might have gone to the other side of the planet, or some soundproof room deep in the fortress, but Bruce still heard him laugh. When Clark returned, the evidence of tears of laughter still had his eyes moist. 

“What would you like me to do, Batman?” 

“You’re going to make me say it?” 

Clark nodded rapidly. 

“Fine. Superman, would you kindly remove your clothes and allow me to explore your mouth and ass until my tentacles explode in delight?” 

Clark zipped away again, but when he returned he took his clothes off before walking up to Bruce. Bruce’s tentacles met him, wrapped around him, sliding around every part of Clark, and Clark gave him more to work with, his erection growing quickly. Clark moved forward, stroking the tentacles as he went. Bruce let the tentacle that was still damp from his mouth open Clark, ready his back entrance for what was to come. 

Clark seemed far too eager for it, but Bruce couldn’t bring himself to comment on it. He was overwhelmed by how much Clark trusted him, so he let his tentacles show that. They lifted Clark up and spread his limbs, raising goose bumps where they kissed at his skin in a slick slide. With three tentacles working in and out of his asshole and two in his mouth, Clark came. 

Bruce couldn’t force himself to be embarrassed about the way his tentacles rushed to fill the holes left empty by their exploding brethren. Bruce enjoyed the feeling of fresh tentacles going back in to those warm holes, knowing it was Clark he was enjoying. Trusting, optimistic Clark who had seen unimaginable horrors and still believed in the best of all people, even humans, even Bruce. Thinking about who he was with and how wonderful Clark was, finally made Bruce’s brain shut up, so he could just feel. 

Clark was suspended in space, long after there were enough tentacles to support him, memorizing the look on Bruce’s face. It was Bruce’s orgasm face, which he’d seen briefly before, but never for this long. Bruce had clearly given his brain some time off, and Clark felt another orgasm creep up on him, just from knowing he was trusted enough to be a part of this. 

Clark lost track of how long he’d been here, how many orgasms he’d enjoyed, so he found himself a bit shocked when he finished the last tentacle. Bruce was still blissed out, and his dick was a purple color that Clark didn’t think was healthy. Lowering Bruce onto his back, Clark moved down to take Bruce’s very human cock into his mouth. It didn’t take long, not as overstimulated as they both were, before Bruce was coming in Clark’s mouth. Hearing Bruce scream his name, Clark had only to touch his dick before he was coming too, sucking on Bruce all the while. With a strange keening noise, Clark let Bruce out of his mouth and flopped down beside him. 

As he recovered from what had just happened, Bruce tried to take in his surroundings, other than Clark. Bruce could feel Clark thinking, trying to figure out what to say after such a thing. Bruce vowed silently that if Clark said anything about emotions or doing this again sometime, Bruce would take to wearing kryptonite jewelry at all times. 

“Well, that was tedious.” Clark said, sounding completely serious. 

Bruce snorted out a laugh, and then let it grow. Laying on a bed of vines and tendrils, finally tentacle free, Bruce and Clark laughed. Bruce let his head rest on Clark’s chest, trying to think of something to say, without saying what he wanted to say. 

Clark smiled at the way Bruce was using him for a pillow, glad even of this bizarre moment together. He listened, hoping Bruce would tell him this emotion wasn’t one sided. Instead Clark heard it when Bruce’s breathing changed, and he fell asleep on his Clark pillow. With a sad sigh, Clark adjusted his hearing to alert them if anybody approached and closed his eyes. He might never hear the words he wanted, but he’d take sleeping with Bruce in his arms as a reward for helping him this night. And if he was lucky, he’d dream of just how he’d helped Bruce. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


End file.
